


Angel of my Lifetime

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, mild homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been one of the serendipitous days when the world was in his favour. Out of college early and in possession of massage oil, Suga lets himself into the apartment, excited about the prospect of a long weekend holed up only with Daichi.<br/>And then he opens his bedroom door.</p><p>“It’s not what it looks like…” Daichi blurted out. “Oikawa is ... uh ...”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel of my Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewindraiser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewindraiser/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by a prompt Noemi (thewindraiser) send me on tumblr which was DaiSuga and 'It's not what it looks like...'
> 
> It's set in the same college au-verse as my other daisuga stories, so basically Suga and Daichi share an apartment with Yaku and Kuroo. Also at the university are Oikawa and Bokuto.

As he let himself into the apartment, Suga let out a sigh of pure pleasure. It had been a good day at college, made even better by the fact that his tutorial had been rearranged so he’d been able to leave an hour early. With the bus on time, he’d arrived back home happy and looking forward to a long and lazy weekend.   For apart from a night out Tooru had organised for Saturday (well, he’d guilt-tripped them all into attending as he was the organiser) he had no plans, except that he was going to lie in bed with Daichi. Closing the door softly behind him, he allowed himself a little fantasy of the pair of them holed up in their room and not letting the world intrude.

Thinking ahead, he’d even stopped off at the chemist, stocked up on condoms and lube, and then with a chuckle he’d picked up some massage oil. He shivered in pleasurable anticipation, thinking about Daichi’s strong hands on his back, straying across his buttocks and down his thighs, sweeping back up and...

 _Oh-kay,_ he thought, his hand twisting the door to his bedroom, _maybe we can start our lock-in early. I’m going to get changed and –_ “OH!”

Two heads twisted his way, four eyes watching him, but he stared only at the dark brown, almost black pair.

“It’s not what it looks like…” Daichi blurted out. “Oikawa is ... uh ...”

“Currently in our bedroom kneeling in front of you, with his hands on your waist, and your shirt riding half way up your chest,” Suga shot out rapidly. And, not quite able to believe the picture in front of him: Daichi’s abdomen, firm and tanned with Oikawa’s long fingers splaying up to his ribs, he leant back against the doorframe.

“I wasn’t expecting you back,” Daichi explained and then, seemingly taking in Suga’s words, he pushed Tooru away.

“Clearly not.” Suga inhaled, letting the air slip slowly inside of him hoping to stop the painful thump of heart and the constriction in his veins, then in a far more measured tone, as if he were discussing the weather said, “Want to tell me what the _fuck_ is going on?”

“It’s _really_ not what you think,” Daichi repeated, now looking flustered, but not, Suga thought, guilty.

“And what _am_ I thinking, Sawamura?” he said, adding a touch of haughtiness to his voice.

“Uh ... well ... I kind of know what this looks like and believe me, that’s um ... Absolutely not. We’re really not ... uh ... I wouldn’t dream of ... I mean, Oikawa is... ”

“So flattered by your words, Sawa-chan,” Tooru said, a smile twitching his lips.

“Shut up,” Daichi hissed, and his face contorted into a grotesque assimilation of a grin. “Oikawa’s helping with ... um ... something.”

“I didn’t realise you needed assistance putting your clothes on,” Suga drawled, determined to make them both feel as uncomfortable as possible.

Alas, that was never going to work on Tooru. “And that’s my cue to leave,” he said, getting to his feet, slowly, languidly, giving Suga a smile.  “Jealousy does not suit you, Koushi.”

“Oikawa, shut up!”

Tooru clicked his tongue. “Ouch, Sawa-chan, after all I’ve done for you, I’m hurt.” But as he walked to the door, he stopped to pick up a sheaf of papers on the floor, gave Daichi a ghost of a wink, and then placed his hand on Suga’s shoulder. “Your boyfriend is very handsome, Kou-chan, but he’s really not my type.”

Suga said nothing. Keeping eye contact with Daichi, who’d not tucked his shirt back in, he closed their bedroom door, and folded his arms across his chest. “I thought Tooru pissed you off.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” Daichi mumbled. “I said he irritated me.”

“Irritated himself right into our bed?” Suga raised his eyebrows. And he wouldn’t have pushed but coupled with everything else that had been going on recently, and Daichi’s intransigence on a certain subject, he felt a transference of his frustrations onto this one point.

“Oh for fucks sake, Suga, of course not!” Daichi fumed. “Look, he was here helping with something, which I will tell you about, if that’s what you want, or you could trust me!”

“Niiiice. Put it on me, then. Make me out to be the bad guy.”

“Nothing happened. Suga, come on!  You don’t seriously believe Oikawa and me are -” he spluttered.

_Did he?_

No, he didn’t. For one thing, Daichi wasn’t alone as Suga could hear Morisuke clattering about in the kitchen, for another he wasn’t stupid enough to shit on his own doorstep, but mainly-

“’Course not,” he said. He shrugged, and then turned away opening the door. “I do know you love me, Daichi, even if you can’t tell everyone.”

And maybe he shouldn’t have said that because rehashing the biggest bone of contention between them would only start another argument.  But Daichi’s insistence that he had to trust him had hit home – again - because trust was not what this was about.

“Suga.”

“Mmm?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter, I’ll tell you why he was here,” he said, sounding both forlorn and far too reasonable.

Suga shook his head, not really in the mood to be pacified. “I’m going to make a cup of tea. Want one?”

Pressing his lips together, Daichi grimaced. “Sorry, I don’t have time, but ... uh ... look, I’ll be back pretty soon and I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Make up what, Dai?” he asked, his eyes wide and innocent.

He expected him to snap and snarl, or storm out, but instead Daichi stared at him a little sorrowfully, and pulled his best puppy dog expression. “Everything,” he said, and grinned lopsidedly. He stepped over to Suga and flicked his nose. “Starting with that pork bun I pinched off you after our first practice at Karasuno.”

_Ah, we’re back to teasing again, keeping it light, sweeping everything under the rug._

“You swore that was Asahi!” he said, playing along.

“What can I say?  I was scared of your punch even then!”

As Suga started to snigger, Daichi pulled him close. “You don’t seriously think there’s something going on between me and Oikawa, do you?”

“Daichi, I _know_ there’s something going on, I just don’t know what.”

 

 

 

Morisuke was washing up when Suga wandered in. With his earphones plugged in, he was singing along to something and dancing a little. He smiled when he saw Suga, waving his hellos along with the dishcloth.

He had a pleasant voice, one that on most occasions cheered Suga up, and often, when they cooked together, they’d sing duets, each one trying to outdo the other when they harmonised.

“Taylor Swift?”  Morisuke offered.

Suga shook his head. “Not in the mood. Do you want tea?”

“Just had one.” Morisuke leant back against the sink, tilting his head to the side as he watched Suga pull out one cup, place one tea bag in it, and then switched the kettle on. “Daichi’s in, you know?”

“Not for long,” Suga retorted. “At least, he’s not here long enough for a cup of tea. He has to go out. Again.”

“Ah.” Morisuke looked away, but there was something about his lack of sympathy that made Suga narrow his eyes.

“He _says_ he has a late tutorial,” Suga continued, fishing now.

“Law students work hard,” Yaku said evenly, and again he gave off the vibe of giving nothing away. He cleared his throat. “Are you here tonight? We could cook a whole apartment meal, if you want?”

 _Which will mean we watch DVDs together,_ Suga thought, and sighed inwardly.  For as much as he liked his flatmates, that wasn’t exactly the plan he’d had for tonight, but then again, he had no idea when Daichi would be back, either. Metaphorically consigning the massage oil to the back of his wardrobe, he sipped his tea and agreed.

 

“You are still mad at me, aren’t you?”

“No,” Suga replied wearily.

“Then why are you curled up on the edge of the bed,” Daichi said, and stretching out his hand, he touched the top of Suga’s arm where it poked out from the blanket. “And you were really quiet tonight.”

“Perhaps I’m tired.”

Daichi’s hand stopped, and Suga heard him sigh. “It’ll be a first you going to sleep before me. Look-” The room was so quiet, Suga could hear him swallow, and then he exhaled, and his fingers ruffled Suga’s hair. “Is this about earlier?”

“Daichi, I don’t care,” Suga whispered. “You wouldn’t cheat, I know that. I trust you, not least because Tooru’s out and –” He bit his lip, waiting for Daichi to attempt his steamrollering logic, the same logic that always ended with an argument. “Sorry, I don’t want to start this again, not tonight.”

And then he heard the rustle of sheets, and in the next moment felt Daichi’s lips pressing on the nape of his neck.

“I do love you,” Daichi muttered.

“Love you, too,” he said.

“And I’m going to make everything right, okay?”

Wriggling back, Suga settled his bum into Daichi’s lap and luxuriated in the feel of one strong arm encircling him, drawing him ever closer, and the wisp of hot breath on his back. And wasn’t this what was important? Wasn’t this all he wanted from Daichi – together, entwined, with no one from the outside world.

“Everything _is_ all right,” he murmured. “I have you.”

***

 

“I still don’t understand why we let Tooru talk us into this!” Suga yelled across the table to Morisuke.

They were sitting in a student bar – a busy student bar, where the noise from the music was only punctuated by the shrieks and yells of everyone in attendance.

“It’s good to celebrate the end of term,” Morisuke chided. “Everyone needs to let off a bit of steam before the summer, don’t you think?”

“But a nineties evening?  How did that happen?”

“Tooru says it’s back in fashion,” Morisuke informed him, and leaning back he started to smile. “You’ve seen the notes he keeps in lectures. He randomly starts writing song lyrics in the margins.”

Suga screwed up his nose. He was thirsty, and Daichi, who was supposed to be buying the drinks, was, he could see, trapped by two girls on his course. Not that he appeared to be making a huge effort to disentangle himself, and once again, a small cloud fretted at Suga’s mind.

“We should never send Daichi to the bar,” he remarked wryly, getting to his feet. “He’s too popular.”

“I’ll get them,” Morisuke said, tugging Suga down.

“I’m not going to say anything,” Suga grumbled. “I just want a drink and I’ll die of thirst by the time he’s made his escape.”

“Suga-kun.” Morisuke stayed where he was, but his hand shifter to Suga’s shoulder.

“What?”

“You’re not actually jealous of those girls, are you?”

_Am I?_

“No, I’m not. It’s just-” But the music was too loud for this conversation, and Morisuke had heard this all before. He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

But Morisuke seemed reluctant to drop the conversation, and dropping back onto the seat, he pointed across to the far corner. “Kuroo’s over there with the other medical students. Bokuto-kun will turn up soon with a gang from the Geography department, or maybe the rest of the volleyball team. We’re all making new friends, Suga – you know that. That’s why everyone’s come along to this night of Tooru’s. Daichi has to spend three or four years with those people, so he doesn’t want to-”

“I know. I know. I’m being petty. I just ...” He closed his eyes. “I’m fine, really.”

“I’ll get the drinks in.”

“Thanks.”

“And stop brooding.”

Suga opened one eye and flashed Morisuke a grin. “It’s what I do, but I’m really okay.”

And he was. Except ... he’d thought it was going to be easier in Tokyo. Leaving Miyagi , he’d hoped they’d left the veil of secrecy behind, but no ... not yet ... not yet ... as Daichi continued to say.  

 

(“Let’s find our places, first, yeah?”

“I thought we already knew.”

“Sug, we’re together. I love you. I just don’t want-”

“To flaunt it? I’m not asking you to full on snog me in public, Sawamura, just don’t deny what we are.”

“I’m not! I’m just ... it’s discretion, Suga, okay. This course is full of conservative tightarses and I need to ... I need to make the right sort of impression.”

“The ‘right’ sort?” He could feel the anger simmering in him, the attitudes he’d hoped to leave behind festering between them.

“ _Their_ definition of right,” Daichi amended. “And no, it’s not right, but I _have_ to get along with this crowd, at least for a while.” He closed his eyes and touched his forehead to Suga’s. “If someone comes right out and asks about you, about us, I’m not going to lie, okay?”)

And with that Suga had had to be satisfied. They’d go out as a crowd, but there was always this distance until they got back to the confines of their flat. And despite Daichi’s constant reassurance, Suga dreaded the day when the distance became wider, because on some days he felt as if they were sitting on the same beach, but staring at different horizons.

 

“Koushi-chan!”

“Tooru.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re sulking. Poor Sawa-chan.” Tooru chuckled as he sank into the booth next to Suga.  He crossed his long legs, and stretched his arms along the back of the seats, displaying a black leather jacket, over which he’d slung a denim waistcoat.

“What _are_ you wearing?”

“This?” Tooru smirked. “Nineties boy bands, Koushi. I might ask why you’re not wearing something more appropriate.”

“Jeans and a shirt are appropriate,” Suga snapped, not adding that he was wearing his favourite pair of jeans because Daichi, on the one occasion he’d offered an opinion about Suga’s clothes, had muttered that he loved staring at his bum when he wore them.

“But not in keeping.” Tooru leant across and tugged at his shirtsleeves. “If you rip them off, then maybe-”

“GET OFF!” Suga yelled, pushing him away.

“Good lord, I’ve never seen you _quite_ so grumpy,” Tooru remarked, not sounding in the least repentant. 

“I’m thirsty and wondering what we’re all doing here,” Suga said. “And Daichi was supposed to be-” He gestured towards the girls, then blinked, because wherever Daichi was, he certainly wasn’t talking to them anymore. “Where _is_ Daichi? He was there-”

 “Suke-chan, thank you,” Tooru interrupted, and got to his feet to take one of the drinks as Morisuke swerved through the crowd towards them.

“That’s Suga’s.”

“My need is greater,” Tooru said, downing some of the lager.

“What? Why?” Suga demanded as he tried to snatch back his drink.

“I’m the host. I need to keep –”He grinned, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Lubricated.”

As he leaned closer, pouting his lips as if puckering up for a kiss, Suga pushed his hand in Tooru’s face. “You’re revolting. Go and find someone else to flirt with.”

“Alas, that’s not possible.” Tooru sighed petulantly. “Everyone else is dying to get me into bed, but  you’re so in ‘leurve’,” he fluttered his eyelashes, “ that you are disgustingly safe and won’t get the wrong idea.” He took another sip of the lager, then placed it back on the table before getting to his feet. “Okay, as host I need to mingle. Catch you later, guys.”

“Mmmhmm,” Yaku waved him off, Suga stared mutinously at his half-drunk lager.

“When can we go?” he muttered. “This is turning out to be worse than anything I imagined.”

“Uh...” The secretive look was back in Morisuke’s eyes, but instead of intriguing Suga, it only irritated him. He came to a decision. He wasn’t in the mood, not that night, so whatever the plan was, he’d finish his drink, then leave. It wasn’t like he needed to network – not like Daichi – who’d no doubt wandered off to suck up to some third years or one of his bloody lecturers.

“Welcome to Nineties Night!”  Tooru’s voice drowned out the chatter as he leapt on a makeshift stage, raising his hand to the crowd. “Okay, I’m not going to make a huge speech, just a thank you for coming. And I hope you’re in the mood for some great music from the past – most of it from before we were born. Although, Kuroo-chan’s hair is certainly timeless.”

“Hey, shut it!”

“Tsk, he loves me really.”

Despite his mood, Suga couldn’t help smile. Tooru really was an entertainer, whether on court or on stage, he had the type of personality that engaged a crowd. Openly gay, yet he still flirted with everyone around him, and in such an obvious way, no one assumed he was taking the piss.

“But before the DJ starts, I would like you to put your hands together for our first act – well, our only act – and it’s only one song so not really an act, at all.  Anyway.” He grinned and flapped both his hands. “FOR ONE NGHT ONLY. Please give a huge welcome to Tokyo’s answer to Robbie Williams.”

“What the hell is this?” Suga muttered, and leant his head back on the chair. “I’m going to go. Really not in the mood for a third-rate imperson-”

A burst of laughter, and Morisuke clamping his hand around Suga’s wrist prevented him from leaving. “You’re gonna want to see this, Suga-kun.”

 _‘Whoa whoa whoa ahh ahh ahh!’  -_ The act, or whatever it was, sauntered onto the dimly lit stage, singing low, voice trembling.

“Get off me, Yaku!”

 _‘Whoa whoa whoa ahh ahh ahh!’_ A little more confident.

“No. Look!”

_‘Could it be magic?’_

The silhouette of the figure on stage was broader than most members of a boy band, there was none of the dancer’s physique about him, compact and stolid, and yet there was a certain athletic grace about his movements.

Suga, following Morisuke’s wildly gesticulating finger, gaped.

“Is that ...” He couldn’t speak. Could not utter a single word, or a sound except for some embarrassing squeak that would have rendered him the helium-taking brother of Mickey Mouse.

The lights went up.

And then, as the singer raised his arms above his head, causing his white vest top to ride up his body and revealing a tanned, toned stomach of washboard abs, the lump in Suga’s throat miraculously dissolved.

“DAICHI! OH MY FUCKING GOD!”   He punched Morisuke on the arm “What’s he _doing?_ ”

_‘Spirits move me, every time I'm near you  
Whirling like a cyclone in my mind.’_

“Ow!” Morisuke rubbed his arm. “Singing, Suga. That’s what he’s doing.”

“But he can’t. He has a _horrible_ voice.”

Or rather he had, but here, now, Daichi had suddenly become imbued with both confidence and songbird ability. He grinned at the audience, and then flashed his attention on one person, cupping his hand towards Suga.

 _‘You're my life line, angel of my lifetime  
Answer to all answer I can find,’ _ he crooned, only slightly out of tune, but more than making up for it with a twist and gyrate of his hips.

The cries from the girls on his course, from all the girls in room, tempered a little as they watched Daichi move forwards.

 _‘Baby I want you come, come, come into my arms_  
_Let me feel the wonder of all of you._  
_Could it be magic now, now, now and hold on fast_  
_Could this be the magic at last?’_

“What’s he doing?” Suga breathed.

“Uh... coming out,” Morisuke ventured. “Isn’t that what you want?”

The thrum of tears behind his eyelids threatened to spill but he couldn’t here, not here, not with everyone watching, and now they _were_ watching, their eyes torn between Daichi’s imploring song, and Suga’s shocked and wobbling smile.

And Daichi gulped, faltering a little as Suga didn’t move. His voice hitched, the tune hit and miss, but he ploughed on.

 _‘Baby take me high upon a hillside_  
_High up where the stallion meets the sun._  
_I could love you build my world around you_    
_Never leave you till my life is done.’_

He stepped further forwards, the crowd parting until all that was between them was the table and a couple of drinks.

_‘Suga, I want you, come, come, come into my arms!”_

“YES!” Suga screeched, and getting up from his seat (knocking both his and Morisuke’s drinks over the table) he vaulted, crossing the distance between them with one bound, and leapt into Daichi’s arms.

 _‘Let me feel the wonder of all of you.’_ Daichi sang, then laughed as he stumbled backwards under Suga’s weight.

“I thought you needed to be discreet,” Suga gasped.

Daichi shook his head. “Not if it’s making you unhappy. Oikawa suggested I make a statement. He’s ... uh ... been teaching me how to sing,” Daichi whispered, or tried to, but then he rolled his eyes as the words between them reverberated around the room. “I’m still miked up. And I don’t care. I love you, Sugawara Koushi, and I want everyone to know.”

“Dumbass,” he whispered, and before Daichi could protest (Suga really didn’t think he was going to) he pressed his mouth to Daichi’s lips and kissed him, full on in front of the world.

_‘Could this be the magic, at last?’_

The music faded, and Daichi, not yet relinquishing Suga, faced the audience. Stunned silence would be the word for it, and then whoops from four corners of the bar: Tooru from behind, Morisuke mopping up drinks at the table, Kuroo surrounded by his fellow wannabe doctors, and finally, louder than them all, Bokuto shouting a ‘Hell Yeah!’

“Thank you,” Daichi cried out. “I won’t torture your eardrums any longer. My _boyfriend_ is the musical one.”

And as he grinned, clamping Suga close to his side, the audience began to clap, a smattering of applause at first, but then it got louder, and cheers – not from everyone – but from enough, joined their friends’ whoops.

“I know this is your crowning moment,” Suga said, clasping Daichi’s face in his hands, “but can we leave?”

“Sure, but why?”

“I have a bottle of massage oil at home,” he whispered in his ear, “and I’d like to use it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've actually had this story in mind for a long while and the prompt gave me an excuse to write it.
> 
> And Oikawa is totally aping Robbie Williams in the video to this, Daichi's more Jason Orange.


End file.
